Becoming
by Drea Jackman
Summary: Becoming n – any process of change; any change involving realisation of potentialities, as a movement from the lower level of potentiality to the higher level of actuality.'
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Becoming (1/?)  
**Author:** Drea Jackman  
**Rating:** R  
**Characters/Pairings:** Sylar/Claire  
**Summary:** 'Becoming (n) – any process of change; any change involving realisation of potentialities, as a movement from the lower level of potentiality to the higher level of actuality.'  
**Spoilers:** Up to 3x16 Building 26  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own Heroes, or the characters depicted in this fic. I'm merely borrowing them to humour my little muse, for its voice is loud and mighty, and cannot be denied. Strictly non-profit fun!  
**Word Count:** 2,657  
**Notes:** This is the first in a multi-chaptered story, though I've no idea how many parts yet. It's mapped out to at least 5 and it's not finished there so here's hoping it won't bore anyone to tears! Eternal thanks go to CameronCrazed for being my beta for this one.

'No, don't!'

Luke flinched at the desperate tone in his mentor's outburst. He'd never heard the older man sound like he cared about anything. Obediently, he recoiled just as Sylar sent him hurling to the ground with one wave of his hand. It was too late; the bloodied target of his attack crumpled to the ground dead. Righting himself, his eyes shot upward in time to catch Sylar's own body crash to the ground, deathly eyes wide and unfocused.

Noise suddenly died down, and the room fell momentarily silent. Luke began to find his feet slowly, staring in horror at Sylar's body. He was dead, and the men outside were still coming. He was alone.

Seconds passed before a sudden gasp from across the room made him jump. Turning, eyes frantic, he saw the figure he'd burnt to a cinder sitting up. Blood soaked hair and tarnished features knitting together and reforming into the person he'd attacked blindly as the first to come crashing into the room after the soldiers outside had opened fire.

'Damn it!' she cursed, climbing slowly to her feet. She glanced quickly around the room, noting Luke absently as her eyes fell upon Sylar. Taking long strides, she crossed the room to where he lay and dropped to her knees. 'How long?'

'You ... how...?' he spluttered.

'It doesn't matter!' she countered impatiently, 'How long's he been like this?'

'Not long,' he managed. 'Who are you? Why did he want me to stop?'

Her hands gripped his body by the shoulders and pushed him up until she could lean him against her knees. After a second or two, she pulled the dart from the base of his neck, where it had penetrated the brain, and watched for his reaction. 'No one special.'

It was all getting far too crazy for Luke, who at this point had started to lose patience. He only managed to raise one hand toward her warily before she stopped him.

'Claire,' she answered without looking up. 'My name's Claire.'

Luke paused briefly, noting how her brow had furrowed. 'What's wrong?'

A crash outside finally made her react. 'Help me with him.'

Claire hooked her arms under Sylar's and began to drag him toward the back door of the small apartment. Without hesitation, Luke caught the other man's legs and helped her bundle him out into the car. Dumping his body into the back seat, she made for the driver's side as Luke followed her.

'What do you think you're doing?' he demanded. Who the hell was this girl to randomly show up out of nowhere, apparently knowing more about his would-be mentor than he did at this point in time?

Claire turned impatiently on her heel, face easily betraying the seething anger bubbling beneath the surface and so close to boiling over. Luke hadn't seen her do anything other than heal herself so far, but he didn't like the idea of wagering on the fact that she didn't have more up her sleeve. Nobody except him ran into rooms when they knew Sylar was there. This one was going to be trouble, he could feel it.

'You're the one trailing around with _him_ and you want explanations from me?' she asked with deceptive calm.

'It's my car!'

He cringed a little, realising how childish it sounded out loud. Claire just held out her hand, gesturing for the keys as she glanced over her shoulder at Sylar lying where they'd dumped him unceremoniously into the back. 'You want the guys out front to catch us, keep it up. I won't be the one answering to him when he wakes up in one of their facilities and wonders who's responsible for landing him there.'

Luke's brow furrowed deeply. There wasn't time to debate the issue, he knew that all too well. He'd seen Sylar heal from bullet wounds before, maybe he was like her. Wounds weren't all-out dead though. Evidently she knew more about Sylar's abilities than he did. However, Sylar's wrath was not something he wanted to incur at any cost. This already annoying blonde knew better. A pang of jealously barely registered as he sighed impatiently and slammed the keys into her waiting hand. Defeated, he took up his usual place in the passenger seat.

'Where are we going?'

'I don't know yet,' Claire replied calmly.

Luke sensed her mood ebbing and sat quietly for a minute or two before speaking again. 'What were you expecting to happen? He ... he's dead.' he added in a small voice.

'We'll see,' she said, eyes only leaving the road to check her rear view. Nobody was following. As she rounded the next corner, she slowed to a normal speed to avoid attracting any more attention. 'Who are you anyway?'

'Luke,' came the innocent reply.

'Do me a favour, Luke. Check him for a pulse again.'

The younger man turned in his seat to lean over and check for any signs of life. 'Nothing….'

With an impatient sigh, she pulled out just before hitting town and turned down a quiet street. Barely registering the muffled sound of discomfort from her companion as the car suddenly halted, Claire took the time to check the view in all her mirrors before turning to Luke. 'I'll be back in a few minutes. I need you to drive this around the block twice, you understand me? Pull up here when you're done.'

'Okay,' he said, scooting over to take her place in the driver's seat the second she vacated the car.

True enough, he had only just rounded the same corner for the second time when he saw the familiar blonde standing just where she said she'd be. For all intents and purposes she could've been mistaken for any other young woman waiting to hail down a cab. She'd changed her clothes. Given the damage he'd done to her previous top, he wasn't at all surprised that it was one of the first things she'd set out to cover up.

'Good job,' Claire praised as he scooted back over and she took up the wheel again.

'How did you…?' he began, indicating her clothes.

'There's a hospital around the corner. After your little bit of handy work I fit right in, snatched a change and some supplies.'

They sped off across town, careful to take the less crowded streets as they did so. Finally Claire seemed satisfied with her surroundings, and turned suddenly down a darkened alleyway. The car lurched to a sudden stop and Luke watched as Claire got out on her side, opened the rear door and examined Sylar properly. The exit wound where she'd pulled the dart out was still visible, a significant hole highlighted in dried blood.

'What is it?' Luke asked, peering around to watch her from his seat in the front.

'They must've loaded it with something,' she muttered quietly, more to herself than him. Pursing her lips together in a thin grimace, she pulled up her sleeves and crawled into the back beside the body. 'Keep an eye out, they could be here any second.'

The boy nodded quickly, but it took another long moment for his eyes to leave the couple in the back. Claire began to tug at Sylar's jacket, finally pushing it from his shoulders with much effort. It was far too confined a space for a man as tall as he was. Still, she persevered until she had access to his shirt, and quickly rolled up his left sleeve.

Claire went to work quickly, objective clear in her mind. She hadn't stopped so far to think about how it felt to be the one in control of her monster's fate as he lay there dead before her. The choice was hers now, leave him there, or do something she'd never imagined herself capable of until now. Drawing two vials and a syringe from her pocket, she hardly seemed aware of the choice she was making. The syringe filled quickly, and with little hesitation she thrust it into the crook of the killer's arm, needle finding cold vein easily. It was only while she applied light pressure to it, gently allowing the blood within to enter his circulatory system that she had time to pause for thought.

Absently her eyes left the task in hand and caught the dark wisps of hair visible from the deep V at the neck of his shirt. Eventually she managed to lift her gaze upward until it rested on his face. Somehow, he wasn't something for her to fear any longer. She'd killed him once before already, now things were different. Eyes usually so black and angry, were now vacant, perhaps innocent. For the first time Claire noticed how brown his eyes were. Before she knew it, deathly pale skin flushed with colour; dull brown eyes becoming warm and wide.

The sudden gasp followed by the entire car shaking with the force of movement made Luke's heart almost leap out of his chest. Since when could the dead come back to life after half an hour? Then again, since when did cute, blonde girls who've just been burnt heal minutes later to appear with not a blemish?

'Leave her alone!'

The cry had left his lips with the first new breath the man had taken upon his revival, body bolting upright stiffly. His world suddenly came into bleary focus, but his surroundings weren't at all what he'd been expecting, nor was the company. His eyes came to rest on her familiar face, and although he'd never have admitted it, he felt relief at her presence. However, that was for another time and as he'd expected, she didn't look pleased.

'Sylar,' she said, voice low as she appeared to disregard his outburst.

Sylar couldn't help the sly smirk tugging at his lips as he stared back at her. 'I never figured you for the kidnapping type, Claire.'

The strain to reel in her temper was visible on Claire's features as she played down the urge to stab him in the back of the head with the now empty syringe. Instead, she settled for yanking it from his arm with no finesse whatsoever, smiling and fluttering her eyelashes for added effect. There was only one thought on her mind, 'Hate him!'

Sylar hissed in pain and looked down to see the bloodied needle in her hand, quickly putting together what had happened.

'I didn't know you cared, Claire-bear.'

The pair glared at one another for a long moment before movement in the front seat drew their attention.

'Just what the _fuck_ is going on here?' Luke finally exploded.

Claire rolled her eyes and planting both hands firmly on Sylar's chest, pushed herself up off him as she vacated the back seat. A soft 'ooph' from him came as little reward. Hands on hips, she began to pace the length of the car to catch some air. Sylar wasn't far behind, and nor was Luke.

'Seriously, who is she?' the younger asked of his mentor. Without even waiting for the reply, he'd turned on Claire. 'And you! He was dead, what the hell did you do?'

Claire hissed impatiently, 'Look! We don't have time for this!'

'Since when has there ever been a "_we"_, Claire?' Sylar countered.

'Since they started hunting us like animals,' her outburst was in full flow now. 'They caught everyone – Peter, Suresh, even Hiro! And since I can't go a day without them linking our damn names and making me the same as _you_!'

Sylar looked thoughtful for a second. 'If you needed me, you could've just asked,' he drawled sarcastically.

Luke rolled his eyes.

'I might have if your trigger happy little boy Nuke here hadn't fried me the second I arrived.' She felt her teeth gritting together as the last shreds of her temper frayed away strand by strand.

'Yeah?' Luke finally interrupted, raising his hand in her direction. 'Who the hell are _you_ barging in all-knowing and telling _me_ what to do?'

Sylar sighed and shook his head. 'Not now,' he quieted. Luke he may have expected it from, but he hadn't expected Claire to be bated into it too.

'I'm someone who saved _both_ your asses. They'd have shot you down, taken both you _and_ your precious mentor if it wasn't for me, now pipe DOWN!' she fired back, turning on him.

Luke's hand flexed, temper writhing visibly behind dark eyes. The air around his bared palm began to quiver and tremble as heat radiated from it toward her.

'I said, NOT NOW!'

The growl made both Luke and Claire jump, and with a casual wave of his hand, Sylar sent both of them skidding two feet clear of their original positions. Claire caught her balance, reaching out to the wall at her side, and Luke clumsily caught himself as he hit the car behind with a solid thump. Without another word he retreated to his side of the car, not wanting to provoke the killer's rage any further.

'He can be a little impetuous,' Sylar said with a grin directed at his protégé. The boy squirmed a little under his gaze, eyes flicking to Claire and back before fixing on the hood of the car. He understood his lesson for now. He'd take in every word, every look and every gesture. Showing patience, he'd bide his time until his master could afford him some explanation.

'Understand this,' Claire explained, wanting to make her terms crystal clear, 'I don't need you, I'll never need _you_. What I need are your abilities, and you're going to help me whether you like it or not.'

'Isn't that what all the Petrelli women seem to want from me? What makes you think I'll do anything for you?'

'Because,' she paused, offering him a smile, 'I did what you wanted.'

Sylar eyed her suspiciously; unsure of what she was referring to. What he truly wanted from Claire Bennet he had shared with no one, and she'd certainly never comply. It would never happen.

'I killed you, became that little bit more like you,' her eyes were locked on his. It was making him uncomfortable. 'Isn't that just how you want me, Sylar?'

He didn't respond.

'You want us to be the same, now it's your turn to be more like me. You're going to help me.'

'A tall demand coming from someone so weak and vulnerable.'

Claire smirked, glancing to the open rear door of the car and then back at him. The irony in his statement was too obvious even for him.

'Speak for yourself, Gabriel.'

Black eyes flickered back at her, and she found it hard to tell whether Sylar was going to go along with her plan or not. 'Point taken,' he countered matter-of-factly.

'What?' The shock was evident in her voice.

Sylar's smile broadened and he walked toward her until they were standing toe to toe. Looking down on her, she seemed so small and powerless, and yet this was the woman who, after all they'd been through, had just saved his life. Despite his inward desire to be around her in whatever capacity was possible, outwardly he couldn't help but acknowledge the chance to gain from the situation, although far less selfishly than he knew she'd expect.

'If I do this, you realise you'll have to acknowledge the fact that I'm no more a monster than you are?'

All hints of sarcasm or banter were gone from his voice. He was serious. Claire's mind reeled as she began to lose herself in his dark eyes. She'd be damned if she ever had to give this man of all people, her acknowledgement. Having said that, she knew the outcome would inevitably rest with Sylar. Raising her chin, forcing herself to meet his heavy gaze evenly, the challenge rolled from her lips before she had even considered all the possible ways it could be taken.

'Make me….'


	2. Chapter 2

**Title:** Becoming (2/?)  
**Author:** Drea Jackman  
**Rating:** R  
**Characters/Pairings:** Sylar/Claire  
**Summary:** 'Becoming (n) – any process of change; any change involving realisation of potentialities, as a movement from the lower level of potentiality to the higher level of actuality.'  
**Spoilers:** Up to 3x16 Building 26 canon, may diverge from there.  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own Heroes, or the characters depicted in this fic. I'm merely borrowing them to humour my little muse, for its voice is loud and mighty, and cannot be denied. Strictly non-profit fun!  
**Word Count:** 3,807  
**Notes:** Finally! Ch2's here! I'm so sorry for the huge delay. I hit a wall at exactly 751 words, then real life got in the way and before I knew it, we were saying goodbye to April. Shocking! Again HUGE thanks go to Cameroncrazed for the beta – you're totally my hero! :P

Cold chills raced up and down her spine; nerve-endings aflame beneath every touch he laid upon her and yet this time she craved more. Her hands gripped at his waist, then splayed over his lower back as she pushed them upward, taking in the solid feel of lean muscle beneath his shirt. Aching lungs screamed for air, but with one sweep of his lips, he relieved the burning pressure in her chest. The water she knew must have been cold, but she couldn't feel it. Claire knew the whole experience with Alex should feel familiar; she'd replayed this kiss over in her head a million times already, but this time it was different.

After parting slightly, soft lips moved to claim hers again and another wash of life energized her. Strong arms came up around her, pulling her closer. She gasped into the nothingness around them before slipping her hands up into his hair. The water made her vision blurred and hazy, but she could appreciate the defined dark features even if not in minute detail. Her fingers laced through dark hair; Claire moved to kiss him back. As her lips crossed his, a low, unfamiliar groan escaped him.

Suddenly she found herself locked in his embrace, air almost forced from her lungs as he kissed her breathless. Quickly she became lost in a world where only touch and taste existed, and then their watery surrounding melted away. Now she could hear the effect she was having on him, but only barely above the sound of her own heart pounding loudly in her ears. His breathing was ragged and rushed, and his hands felt like they were everywhere at once. He wasn't alone. The muffled moan that echoed back to her ears could have sounded foreign to her had she not felt it bubble up inside her own throat before escaping. She slid her hands free of his hair, and slowly downward to rest either side of his face.

Coarse stubble scratched at her fingertips and it was only then that her raw sense of touch set off alarm bells. Claire's eyes flew open to find not the familiar sight of Alex before her as expected, but someone she barely recognised if not for the familiar, innocent, deep brown eyes staring back at her. Innocence didn't belong there. Shaking her head in horror, she backed away.

'You….'

***

Claire's eyes flew open as if she'd just been burned. Taking a second to compose herself, she registered where she was and what was going on. She glanced to her left, registering Sylar's presence and then over her shoulder only to see Luke's legs outstretched on the back seat. Since being relegated to the back, he'd taken up a position behind her on the passenger side. After Sylar's demonstration in the alley, he hadn't outwardly protested to her being present, or at least, not so far. They'd been driving in silence for over an hour when she'd been aware of her eyelids becoming heavy. Rolling her eyes, she turned to stare out of the window again.

'Hot?'

Sylar's calm monotone broke the silence and startled her. She tried her best to sound collected as she replied, 'Excuse me?'

'Wherever you went just then,' he clarified.

Was he messing with her mind? Shaking her head before she could even decide upon her answer, Claire didn't know what she found more disturbing; Sylar having the first clue about what she'd just been thinking, or Sylar having an innocent, _normal_ conversation with her. Both concepts, she decided, were freaking her out equally.

'Where are we going?' she asked in an attempt to change the subject.

'I have some things to take care of,' Sylar began, tone managing to avoid betraying his enjoyment at tormenting her. 'It doesn't concern you.'

With a sigh, Claire summoned what little patience she had and yet again changed the subject.

'So, who's the kid?' she asked airily, never once turning to look in his direction.

A mild shuffle from the back told her Luke was still awake too.

'This coming from Goldilocks,' he scoffed at her.

'What's wrong, Claire? Jealous of somebody else getting all the attention?'

Sylar's question cut her off before she could return fire toward the back seat.

'I swear to GOD, if there weren't bigger things going on right now, I'd…' Claire fumed, returning to silence for fear of doing something _he'd_ be sure to regret.

Sylar's expression gave way to mild amusement at her quiet outburst, all too aware that she'd barely managed to reign in her reaction.

'What you'd like to do to me aside, there _are_ bigger things going on here. Things that don't always have to concern you.'

The car travelled in silence another twenty minutes or so before Luke spoke up,

'Can we stop for food? There's a place a few miles up the road.' He gestured to a road sign that quickly came and went. His words fell on deaf ears. With a stroppy sigh, he leaned back in his seat, though even Claire caught his muttered, 'Even serial killers gotta eat.'

A glance in Sylar's direction told her he had heard too. She watched his knuckles whiten as his grip tightened on the steering wheel. With no wish to push him any further, she sat in silence for ten full minutes watching the scenery roll by. It was only when the lights of a diner on the horizon caught her attention that she decided to break the tension and try and diffuse the situation.

'Actually I could use something to eat,' she said airily, hoping he'd bite without much effort on her part. When his expression softened, she could tell he was listening. Leaning toward him only slightly, she lowered her voice; the male ego could be a fragile thing. 'Come on, just twenty minutes.'

Loathed to stop at all, Sylar sighed heavily, only turning the wheel at the last possible second to park haphazardly. He slid from behind the wheel with a fluidity that drew Claire's attention. She found her eyes fixed on the point where the black shirt creased between his shoulder-blades. The depth and smooth movement of muscle beneath was almost hypnotic, even if only lasting a second or two. Seeing him in a more everyday situation made her wonder about him. At times he could look so normal, like any other guy she could pass on the street. Not one hell bent on killing and acquiring abilities.

'Finally!' Luke exclaimed with trademark sarcasm, breaking Claire's reverie.

With a sigh, her eyes dropped from Sylar as he walked past paying her no mind. The car door slamming was the only reply Luke received as they filed into the small diner in search of dinner.

Sylar led the way, instinctively seeking out a booth near the back with Luke close behind. She kept a small distance between them as she watched Sylar take up a position that allowed him clear vantage over the entire place, including the only entrance. He hadn't made it this far by being careless. Luke took up a seat opposite and with far less concern than his mentor, snatched up a menu.

She leaned over the table, brushing close to Luke and deliberately keeping her distance from Sylar. He clasped one hand around the fist his other had formed somewhat defensively, covering the lower half of his face, eyes never leaving the door. She could tell he was already counting the seconds until seclusion was his again. 'I'll be right back.'

Straightening up to her full height, Claire shrugged out of the small hooded top she'd liberated back in the city and tossed it into the seat beside Luke. The T-shirt underneath was tighter than she would have ever chosen for herself, and the jeans a little longer, but beggars couldn't be choosers.

The younger teenager's head whipped around to see her walk purposefully toward the counter, offering the middle-aged woman serving a bright smile. Luke watched her spark up conversation with the woman over his shoulder for a few seconds before turning back to Sylar. 'I'm guessing daddy didn't approve?' he asked with a grin.

Sylar merely cocked an eyebrow slightly, but he didn't look at him. For all intents and purposes, he maintained his diligent vigil just Luke would have expected of him. Against his own better judgement however, he found his eyes were no longer focused on the door.

'She's so obviously daddy's little girl. What's wrong, her daddy didn't approve when the big, bad monster came calling on his daughter?'

With no regard to either confirming or denying the specifics in the boy's hypothesis, Sylar replied, 'She had something I wanted.'

'I'll bet she did,' Luke shook his head and glanced down the menu in his hand again.

Once again, Sylar paid the conversation little attention. His eyes studied the cheerleader carefully, fully appreciating the changes that had taken place since their last meeting. She could slip in and out of character almost as easily as he could these days and he had to stop and wonder if he still knew which was truly hers. She'd become capable of so much more than he'd ever expected. It intrigued him, truth be told she always had.

'So...' The opener to his question fell flat for a long moment before the reply came.

The older man sighed and finally shifted his line of sight from Claire to the enquiring face watching him from across the table. 'So?'

'So how does someone like you know someone like her?'

Sylar glanced back toward the counter, intending to afford the answer more thought before divulging such information. After all, it wasn't like him to share. His gaze found only the woman wiping down the counter down after a man in dark clothes took up a stool at the far end. The serving woman glanced in his direction looking mildly afraid, then her eyes returned to serving the man who had just sat down. Her movements were stilted and uneasy.

'When I stand up, walk straight out the door and get into the car. Don't look back,' he ordered in a low tone.

Luke's eyes grew wide. Without turning around, he instead followed his teachings and appeared to let his attention be swamped entirely by his menu. Appearing to pour over the contents, he looked over the top of it to the reflection in the window on his right side to see what Sylar was seeing. Where was Claire?

In one smooth motion, Sylar stood slowly and pushed the car keys across the table. As ordered, Luke did the same, picking up the keys in the process. Turning lazily on his heel he walked casually toward the exit. He had barely pressed a palm to the glass before the man in dark clothes cocked his head to the side, vaguely registering their movement. The door swung closed behind him, and it was only then that the stranger stood up to his full height and turned toward their booth, no doubt expecting to see Sylar following his young accomplice toward the exit. The coast, however, was clear.

The man reached for his ear, registering communication from the others he no doubt had with him. Sylar watched carefully from the alcove behind, having managed to hover momentarily behind the agent and successfully pass him by. There was a small turn at the end of the serving bar; a dimly lit passage leading to even dingier rest rooms. He didn't stop to wonder if Luke had made it to the car as instructed, instead his entire focus was on their pursuer. With a satisfied smirk, he began to raise his hand.

'Nuh uh,' came a familiar voice, hissing impatiently in his ear.

The force with which her hand fisted in the back of his shirt, yanking him silently backward out of view caught him off-guard. It would have unsettled him had he not been so angered by her interruption.

'Claire,' he said, mocking tone successfully hiding the pang of relief he felt at locating her again, 'you spoil my fun.'

Claire shoved him roughly in the direction of the small sinks behind the entrance. She returned to peering through the crack in the door, maintaining her vigil. 'Whatever.'

Glancing around the dingy décor, Sylar eyed the pink, plastic flowers in an equally cheap vase sitting on a shelf over one of the sinks; a pathetic attempt at introducing cheer into such a dreary setting. He turned toward her, arms slightly outstretched in mock disgust at their surroundings. 'Now's not really the time for a quickie in the ladies room, Claire.'

Claire rolled her eyes in disgust, but didn't turn around as she hissed back at him, 'You sick freak!'

Sylar stepped up behind her, leaning deliberately close as he bent lower to see what she was seeing. Their agent friend was still in sight, but clearly mid-conversation with his entourage and none the wiser to their current location. 'Flattery aside, I think now would be the opportune moment to get the hell outta here, wouldn't you agree?'

Warm breath brushed against the side of her face as she felt him stand and walk away from her again. Suppressing a deep shiver, she turned to face him.

'He's alone,' she revealed blankly. 'The others are on their way, but he's here alone.'

Sylar crossed his arms over his chest and leaned on the sink to his rear. 'Ah, you've acquired the ability to read minds,' he scoffed quietly.

'Nothing quite so melodramatic,' she offered with a sweet, but sarcasm-laid smile. 'I heard him talking on his comm-radio-thing. He left the gents next door right as I came in here.'

Sylar looked thoughtful for a second, then stood and made to push past her. 'That settles it then.'

Claire blinked for a second.

'What?!'

His right hand was on her shoulder, shoving her aside as the other wrapped around the door handle.

'Sylar!' she hissed.

When it became apparent that he was paying her no heed, she snapped around and grabbed at the wrist of the hand on her shoulder. 'Knock it off!'

He paused to look down at her, vague amusement evident at the notion that the cheerleader obviously thought she could stop him. Who knew she'd be right? When he didn't release his grip on the door handle, she took it upon herself to seize that one as well, pulling his right toward her left until they stood without barriers in mock face-off with her standing between him and murder.

'I'm only gonna give you one chance to let go, Claire.' Vague amusement faded into darker anger and he flexed his hands held out at either side of him. Her grip only tightened on his wrists.

For a brief moment, Claire felt she was back in her parent's house. The day she'd opened her room door to find him standing there with a grin of anticipation. He had made her a victim that day, and she hated him for it. Everything she'd pushed for since had been to become stronger; to make him pay for what he'd done to her; to hurt him. Sometimes it didn't matter how much hatred she could muster; sometimes he was just her monster.

Sylar noticed the brief flicker of change in her eyes as he glared menacingly down at her, and then just as soon as it had shown itself, it was gone. Her eyes mirrored his, determined glare just as confident. He found the change in her almost hypnotic; her spirit, her energy; it had all evolved into something fierce radiating from her in waves. Eyes locked on hers, he felt the sparks dance up the back of his neck. She looked out of breath; maybe it was just fear. Everyone feared him these days, and he'd given them good reason.

There was a quiet shuffle outside the rest room door. Claire looked panicked and released Sylar's wrists immediately. His left hand came up to press a finger to his lips in a calm gesture of 'shh'; the other swept upward, fingers splayed wide with palm facing down toward the ground.

When the agent kicked the door in, it hit the sinks roughly and sent a loud clattering echo around the enclosed space. There were only three small cubicles; two with doors already open wide, the other was shut. The last was closest.

Claire was perfectly aware that the killer's eyes were trained on the same target as hers, but she could feel the exertion coursing through him. She guessed she'd won out over his better instincts and on some level it felt reassuring to know she had some influence over him, some power. With that single wave of his hand, he'd used his telekinesis to lift her clear into the air. Now the ceiling of the rest room pressed firmly into her back. For a split second she'd thought he'd leave her there and go after the agent about to discover them, then with a deep breath he had launched himself upward into a position right beside her; right arm outstretched to press across her middle, palm still evidently pushing an invisible force toward the ground. The gesture could have been mistaken for a protective one, but Claire was sure it only served the mechanical purpose of his ability at that moment.

When the door of the last cubicle crashed open revealing nothing inside, the other man glanced around at head height briefly. Having no luck, he lowered his weapon and left the rest room.

Sylar's brow was furrowed deep in concentration; less at the effort it took to hold them both in place, and more at the effort it took to suppress his hunger's ever-present bloodlust. As the door closed and the footsteps died away, he took a few silent breaths to gather himself together. Gradually the sound of blood rushing in his ears subsided. He felt Claire shuffled slightly against his arm and wondered if he knew just how much she was wearing on his last thread of patience. Although only lasting a moment, the silence around them seemed to stretch out for long minutes. The only thing he seemed aware of fully was the way her abdomen pressed against the back of his arm; he could feel every new breath she took, smooth and without labour. Reluctantly he withdrew his arm and lowered them both toward the ground.

'He's outside!'

The agent's voice rang out from the restaurant floor. Barely a second passed and they heard the harsh slamming of the diner door just on the other side of the wall. This time Sylar stepped forward to open the rest room door with no protest from Claire. Given the all clear, he stepped out into the passage and glanced over his shoulder signalling her to stay put. A few more steps and the roaring of a car engine bursting into life filled the air. With a brief screeching of tires, he detected the solo agent's car leaving the parking lot in a hurry.

'Are they gone?' Claire asked, coming up quietly behind him.

Sylar systematically scanned the area with a likeness she could only compare to a hunter searching for its prey. Oddly enough, at that moment she could appreciate it. Seeming satisfied, he headed outside without a word. Claire followed, glancing back to offer an apologetic half-smile to the woman still behind the counter. The woman merely stared after them, eyes wide and Claire could already tell that with nobody else in the diner, she'd be closing up early tonight.

'So,' she began, 'where to now? Where's Luke?'

When no reply came, Claire scanned the parking lot to find Sylar standing a little way off from her current position with his back to her. He wasn't moving. With a sigh of tired frustration, she started walking toward him.

'_Why_ are you just standing there?'

Claire watched his shoulders slump a little. He seemed to pause for effect, and then turned slowly to look at her. With a single, lazy gesture toward their surroundings, he dropped his hand to his side.

'Nothing seems, oh I don't know, a little _off_ to you?' he quipped.

With a quick glance around, Claire's eyes fell onto the vacant space where their car had been, deep tire-width gouges in the mud the only sign that there had ever been a vehicle there at all. Doing her best to count to ten, she closed her eyes and swore silent obscenities she was sure could make even Sylar blush.

'That's what I thought,' he responded quietly.

Another deep sigh later and she gathered herself together. Straightening up, she looked at him expectantly. An expression lacking in amusement met her in return.

'Which direction?' she asked matter-of-factly.

Sylar simply turned to face the opposite direction, looking off down the road they'd been headed down before stopping for food. It was better to work alone; he hadn't even wanted to stop in the first place.

'Come on,' she huffed, deliberately bumping him as she overtook him in large strides. It was cold, it was dark and she wasn't in the mood. If God truly existed, he was _really_ trying her patience these days. 'The others following him will be here soon.'

'We should stay off the road,' he offered constructively, falling into step a few strides behind her.

Without warning she made a sharp right and headed up the embankment covered in trees. It would take them away from the roadside and give them some cover should anyone else try and follow them. Fuming, she started swatting tree branches out of her way, aware that he was somewhere close behind. She had no idea just how close until she ever-gracefully put a foot out of place, slipping in some rain-sodden mud.

Strong hands came out of nowhere and gripped her waist, steadying her with a care she would have never expected of him. She stopped all movement, holding her breath to halt her equally as ungraceful gasps for air. Maybe he'd believe the incline was just that steep; being fair, in reality it was.

An awkward air descended over the pair quickly. Claire adjusted her footing carefully, hoping he'd avoid comment. Realising his grasp had lingered a little too long, he released her. Quickly, as if nothing had happened, she started making large strides up the slippery hill again, taking care as she went. Glancing down at his hands, Sylar doubted the excuse 'it was just a reaction' would float, even if it was the truth. Running a hand through increasingly dishevelled hair, he watched her briefly before lowering his head, muttering curses under his breath as he followed.

It was going to be a long night … for both of them.


End file.
